


All I Want (is a good life)

by silentterror



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Come Swallowing, Face-Fucking, M/M, Shibari, Tags Contain Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:54:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26226721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentterror/pseuds/silentterror
Summary: In the club and on the streets, he's known as Leon. Day to day, he's known as Mark. All he wants is to live a good life and be able to take care of what he needs to.He didn't ask for the elusive business man named Jaehyun to walk into his life.He also didn't ask to fall in love with his co-worker.Was a nice, easy life too much to ask for?
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Mark Lee, Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 1
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am intentionally leaving things out of the tags, however everything that would require being tagged for trigger warning purposes is tagged, have no fear. I hope you all enjoy this hell I found myself in.
> 
> There is a playlist for this fic which can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLzREHgiFELh7_ver4zp0renkO6mUo9WZo). I will have links to specific songs throughout each chapter. I recommend listening to them to get into the environment of the story, but it is not necessary obviously.
> 
> This is a rework of a previous fic of mine. I couldn't get behind the ship I was originally writing, so I had to change it up. Sorry to those who may have preferred that version.

  


The lights from below him and around the club were casting a multi colored haze on his face. His blood was pumped rhythmically through his veins from the bass of the music. People watched; some tried to touch, none were successful. Metal surrounded him in an iron cage. Neon orange, leather-looking, vinyl restrained him; surrounded his leg muscles and pulled. The same vinyl wound around his neck, forming a collar. Matching neon rope wrapped in intricate knots covered his upper torso; black and white checkered underwear was the only piece of clothing he wore. His hot pink hair glowed under the black lights thanks to the special dye. The show had yet to begin, but all eyes were on him.

All of the lights dimmed aside from the black lights above his stage and the light floor below his feet. Mark gripped the bars in front of him with his legs spread, facing the main dance floor. The show was about to start.

_Driver, roll up the partition, please_

His first move was a drop into a split, still holding the bars. He could hear the collective gasp from the nearby patrons. He glanced over at them and smirked; they were regulars, but this was a new routine. He came up from the floor, dragging his feet with an arch of his back.

_We ain't even gonna make it to this club_

He pulled himself slightly off the ground with the metal bars, swirling his hips on his way down. Once Mark's feet were on the ground he turned around and touched the ground; shaking his hips to tease a bit. Soft groans could be heard from the crowd. This was what he lived for; the show, the crowd, all eyes on him. He wanted to feel special; what better way to do that than in a cage in a club?

_Oh there daddy, daddy didn't bring the towel_

Mark popped a finger in his mouth, sucking on it as he wiggled his way around the cage. He could see some of his regulars throwing tips into his collection jars on the bar. He was out of reach of the patrons and couldn't provide them with special attention for tipping. However, they knew the more they tipped, the more grinding his hips would do. The tips were coming in just in time for the next point of his dance.

_Take all of me_

Down he went on to his knees.

_I just wanna be the girl you like_

He slowly made his way onto his back, knees still under him. His hands followed the curve of his body, catching lightly on his rope harness, tugging it in all the right places.

_Driver roll up the partition please_

As the beat picked back up, Mark arched his way back up to spread knees. He bounced on his knees to the rhythm of the snaps. He glanced at his tip jars and saw them beginning to overflow; men always liked when you could make them think you were being fucked by them.

_Private show with the music blasting_

Mark stopped bouncing, only to move onto grinding his hips accented with perfect body rolls. His arms were above his head now as he felt the music and energy singe its way through his veins.

_Whoa there daddy, daddy you ripped my fur_

His fingers came up to pull his collar as though someone was guiding him up from his knees. As he climbed his way up the bars, he looked out to the crowd. There, standing in the middle of the lounge, stood someone he would recognize like the back of his hand. _John._ Of course, that wasn't his real name. They never used their real names.

The hotel was one of the best in the area; just down the street from the prestigious club he was dancing in. Many of his clients liked to use this hotel to show off their wealth. The hotel essentially breathed excessive wealth. The rooms were huge and the walls were thick. Not that Mark actually cared; he only cared that he got paid.

This specific John was one of his favorite clients. He wasn't all that bad to look at, wasn't _too_ old, and he never became rough. He always paid and would at least ask if Mark was doing ok; not that it actually mattered, it was what he was being paid for anyways.

"What are we in for tonight?" Mark asked as he waited for John to open the door to their normal room.

"Everything, babe. I want it all tonight," John said after finally swinging the door open. "Just treat me right."

Mark put on his trademark smirk and grabbed John's tie, pulling him closer. "I always do."

  
  


The crowd cheered. Mark's presence was a favorite in the club. He may have been a lowly stripper to some, but to others he was a beautiful dancer to watch. Tonight was Ladies' Night. The crowd was full of women of all ages, all of them cheering and yelling with every sway of Mark's hips. On nights like these, he played the role of a manly man making love to these women instead of a little twink being fucked by the men. Cliche male stripper songs, such as _Pony_ , blared through the speakers around him, coursing through his veins, controlling his moves.

His hips snapped forward before rolling into smooth body rolls and grinds. A metal bar of his cage caught between his legs, rolling down on it. Tonight he was once again in only black and white checkered underwear, but he chose to forgo the rope he normally wore. The harnesses gave him the air of submission and obedience. The women who came to this club, more often than not, wanted to be dominated, not the other way around.

Tonight there was a metal chair in his cage. He rarely used props, choosing to control the crowd through his body alone. But with Ladies' Night it was a bit harder. He had to give the illusion he was fucking something to truly get these women's pocket books open. He sat, legs wide open, on the chair as he ground up into the air, back arching away from the cold metal.

As the beat changed, Mark pushed the chair away and fell to his knees on the floor, grinding and rolling his hips against the LED floor. He could feel his lip starting to swell and potentially bruise from all of the biting and sucking he was putting it through, but sacrifices had to be made in the name of money.

As the song came to an end and the lights in the club came up, Mark glanced up to the VIP lounge. There, just like any other Ladies' Night stood one of his favorite clients. _Jane._

  
  


Back at the hotel near the club for the second time in as many nights. Even the upper class women liked to prove something. Why did they always want to prove something to Mark? It must have been a power play. The more wealth they could exude, the more control and power they would have over him? Why did it even matter? He would be the perfect ideal of a lover for the night for the right price. It didn't matter how much wealth they really had; he just cared about if they could afford _him_ or not.

"What do you want tonight, baby?" Mark asked, pushing the woman gently against the wall, kissing down her neck, inhaling her too strong perfume.

"I want to forget I have a husband and baby at home. I want to forget I have a maid who is sleeping with my husband. I want to forget my name," she said, her nails scraping from Mark's hair down his back. Her rings felt heavy and cold against his skin.

Mark pulled away from her neck, leading her further into the hotel room. He pushed her gently onto the bed, always afraid of using too much force and causing her to freak out. "I can do that," he said as he crawled on top of her.

  
  


Years. Months. Weeks. Days. Hours. Minutes. Seconds. They all sped by Mark with a blink of an eye. If you were to ask Mark how long he had been a dancer at the club, he probably would say his whole life. Because it felt like he never had a life beforehand. He would say years. Because that was the truth. Some nights he may say only a few months, but those were the nights he was pretending he wasn't as low as he was. Those nights were the bad nights.

  
  


On nights where Mark needed something _more._ He would take clients for small favors in the VIP rooms of the club. The owner knew, he didn't care. He got a cut from all of Mark's tips, including special _favors_ , so he didn't care.

Some nights Mark would provide extra care to the staff of the club. The DJ being his favorite. Johnny always treated him right. Johnny made sure Mark was enjoying himself and not doing it for the money. If Mark could ever have a Friend With Benefits in the line of work he did, it would have been Johnny.

The bartender, Yuta, was a close second to a favorite. He paid Mark, but only because the owner would have been irritated if multiple employees of his were sleeping together for something aside from business. Mark was the club toy, but none of the other dancers or employees treated him like such. Only the owner. He was an elusive asshole. Mark didn't even know his name. “Mr. X” he was known as among the employees. _How cliche._

  
  


EDM night was arguably Mark's favorite night just in terms of dancing. It brought him back to a time he tried to forget. A time of mirrors and hardwood floors and classes. A time of love and laughter and learning.

During his show on EDM nights, the lights didn't dim. The spotlight was on him, of course, but the lights everywhere else kicked up tempo. They matched the beat of the song, borderline seizure speed. Johnny could always be seen jumping around too much and enjoying the songs too much, but it was part of his charm. Most of the patrons came to see Mark, but the others came to see Johnny.

_Bass slut_

Mark started the dance clapping in place to the rhythm. Once the bass line kicked in, he started punching his arms in front and beside him, rolling his wrists to make the moves appear smoother than they were.

_I want the bass that makes me wet_

Mark was jumping in place, mimicking his friend behind the DJ booth. Somewhere along the line he lost the moves of his routine. No one cared. Everyone was following his lead and jumping and dancing in place, anyways. They didn't know he had convoluted hand movements planned for the hook of the song. On EDM nights they didn't care if he looked fucked out or not. They just wanted the energy from the music and Mark's dancing to propel them into their own fucked out state of mind.

_Big fat hard kicks_

Mark kicked his feet up as he jumped around his cage. His arms waved around to the beat. The neon orange rope, once again tied around his arms and torso, created a vibrant blur. Mark's heart was pounding in his neck, caught by the black studded collar he was wearing.

_Bass make that bitch cum_

True to Johnny fashion, and following the sample he sent Mark for practice, the DJ started splicing lines and beats from Kyoto into Bass Slut. Merging the two songs in a way one would think would be terrible, but really just flowed together seamlessly thanks to Johnny's skill.

_Yo Skrill drop it hard_

Now was the time when Mark's hip hop dance background could come out to shine. He formed a medley of what he dubbed cyber punk hand movements with hip hop popping. Creating a show of styles, like Johnny's song, most would think would clash and not work well together. But Mark knew what he was doing. It was rare he had the chance to show his advanced techniques, so when he did, he went all out.

_Bass slut_

The song faded out in a series of heavy pants and moans coming from the speakers. When the song was over, Johnny brought in a softer Avicii song, giving the crowd a chance to continue to dance, yet calm down from the amped up high everyone was on.

Before Mark went to climb out of his cage for a break, he glanced up at the VIP lounge, only to be shocked to see one person. Normally the VIP lounge was full of big shots and big wigs with their arm candy. Acting as though this nightclub was the best place to conduct business or pick up a pretty escort to treat them well. Tonight, however, there was one man dressed in a dapper suit. His eyes bore directly into Mark, not even looking away when a waitress brought him a drink.

Mark glanced down at Yuta who was opening the cage to help Mark out. Before he decided to step down, he glanced back up, only to find the lounge empty as far as he could see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songs used:
> 
> partition - beyonce  
> bass slut - s3rl  
> kyoto - skrillex
> 
> | [twt](https://twitter.com/whinielixie) |


	2. Chapter 2

"That was a kickass show you put on last night," Johnny said as he helped lace fashion rope around Mark's arms.

"How were you able to see any of it while you were jumping around like a kid on a sugar rush?" the pink haired dancer asked, watching Johnny's work through the vanity mirror.

The dj only scoffed before tugging a bit harder than necessary on a piece of rope, earning a hiss and glare from the dancer. "I can see everything in the club from my booth, thank you very much," Johnny said defensively.

His friend’s words brought him back to the previous night and the mysterious man in the VIP lounge. "Hey, speaking of seeing everything," Mark started, playing with the hem of the cut-off sweatpants shorts he wore before shows, the rope already tied snuggly underneath. "Do you know who the guy in the lounge was last night? There weren't a lot of people there like normal."

Johnny let out a sound of accomplishment as he stepped back to admire his work. Tonight, orange rope wound around Mark’s chest in what was called a Haze Harness in the Shibari world. The rope formed a ladder-like pattern down his sternum, threading between his legs and tying to the rope on his back. It was a new pattern Johnny found online. Including Shibari in Mark's show was Johnny's idea after a sexy night of Mark wanting to be tied to the bed.

The first night they tied a rope harness ensemble was the best night for tips Mark had ever had.

"The tall guy in the suit?" Johnny asked as he wound up extra lengths of rope they kept as back up.

"Yeah, him." 

Why was Mark feeling so hot and bothered? It couldn't have been from embarrassment, Mark didn't get embarrassed anymore. It must have been the rope taut against the skin between his legs.

Johnny turned back to Mark to help him apply oil and glitter to the areas of skin between knots of rope. "I think his surname is Jung, but everyone calls him Mr. Z. If I remember correctly, he _owns_ this building. You know how all of those guys are, _discretion_ and all of that bullshit." He redirected his focus to applying eyeliner on Mark's lids. 

"I thought Mr. X owned the building?" How did Mark reach the point in his life where a club dj helped him get ready for a show? Such thoughts led him down a bad mental path, so he quickly stamped them down. 

The dj let out a sound of denial. "Mr. X only owns the club, not the actual property of the building," Johnny said once he was satisfied with Mark's appearance. He then turned toward the mirror to apply his own eyeliner.

Mark grabbed glitter hair gel from the top of the vanity. "Interesting," he muttered as he began to intentionally mess his hair up.

 _"Leon,"_ Johnny said in a warning tone. Mark's eyes snapped to the dj's in the mirror upon hearing his stage name. "Mr. Z is known for not taking _anyone_ home when he goes out. It would be best to stay away."

Mark scoffed, returning to putting glitter through his hot pink hair. "That’s what you said about Mr. Park, and I have taken him home three times now."

The dj simply sighed, resigned to the fact that Mark couldn't be reasoned with when he was in A Mood.

  
  


_I usually love sleeping all alone_

The soft sounds of the verse wound its way through the club. Mark walked rhythmically around his cage, stopping occasionally to clasp the bars and sway his hips. Currently, there wasn't a strong beat or bass drop to follow, so the dancer freestyled most of the stops. He simply enjoyed the song and the eyes following his every movement; being in control of their gazes always affected him in the best of ways.

_Ooh yea ooh yea ooh yea_

He continued to sway around his cage, snapping his hips to the beat and occasionally pumping up to his tiptoes. As the bassline kicked in, he fell to his knees and bounced softly, provocatively.

_Infatuated by the fame status_

As the bassline fell away, Mark leaned back slowly to the floor, swinging his legs out from under him. His back arched off the LED floor of his cage, his arms wiping around him in a circle.

_She asks me if I do this everyday_

When the heavy beats kicked back up, Mark popped his hips off the floor on every hit. The haze around him was thick as he humped the air to the beat. His hands traced the rope tied around his chest, catching on the squares near his sternum.

_Often_

He rolled onto his stomach as the rhythm picked up. Pulling backwards so his back arched inward, his ass in the air, and his shoulders pointed toward the floor. He had the grace of a cat as he bounced backwards on his knees, back still arched.

_Ooh yea ooh yea ooh yea_

Mark leaned back until his feet were underneath him again, but he was still crouched to the floor. He bounced a few times, waiting for the fleeting silence before the beat picked up again. When the beat caught, he jumped up to match it by fully standing up.

_Girl I do this often_

He faced the crowd as he bent his knees and swayed his hips to the rhythm and let his hands pull the ropes Johnny so meticulously tied earlier. _Johnny._ Mark looked over to the dj booth to see the brunette's eyes trained on him. He smirked to himself as he pulled harder on the squares near black and white checkered underwear. Johnny was too far from Mark for the dancer to see where his eyes were actually trained, but he knew from experience just where Johnny was looking. He was also pretty sure he just saw Johnny sweep his tongue out and over his bottom lip. If he wasn’t already turned on, he was well on his way now. 

_Often_

He fell to the floor again, bouncing with his legs wide open and riding the beat and the sensual sounds. His eyes locked on the dj as though they were the only ones in the room. One hand crossed over his body, gripping the rope wound around his neck. He pulled the rope slightly, intentionally restricting his breathing in just the right ways. His other hand hugged his torso to hold the rope near his pelvis. He pulled his eyes away from Johnny and glanced at the VIP lounge. He usually did this during a performance, but this time he was glad he was only bouncing instead of in the middle of an intricate move because he momentarily lost rhythm and struggled to get back on beat.

There, standing with his hands behind his back, stood the man in the well-tailored suit from the night before: _Mr. Z._ Those eyes looked like they were staring into Mark's soul. 

All of a sudden, Mark wanted to lay himself bare for the man.

  
  


_"Johnny,"_ Mark moaned out, his hands finding the dj's hair.

This didn't normally happen. On most occasions when Mark played with Johnny, it was per a gentle request of the dj. He’d come to the dancer, gently grab his elbow, and whisper in his ear; he would ask if Mark had a few extra moments he could steal. It was always up to Mark to accept or deny. If he accepted, they would run away to a VIP room for however long it took.

This time was different. This time, Mark was walking to the bar after his set ended, still dressed in his stage outfit. He didn't have any appointments, so he wasn't in a rush to change. This time, he was prey stalked by a predator. Johnny blindsided him by coming at him from within the crowd. He pushed the dancer against the closest wall, caging him in with his arms.

Mark glanced up at the dj booth, only to see Johnny's spot was taken by his apprentice, Dany. After capturing Mark, Johnny pressed his lips gently down the slope of the dancer's neck from behind his ear to his shoulder; his lips skipping lightly over the silk rope. Mark was just about a full head shorter than the dj, which was fine with both of them, seeing as how it provided Johnny with such easy access to Mark’s neck. His plush lips attached themselves to the soft skin above Mark's collarbone. The dancer moaned out the dj's name as he carded his hands in the soft, dark brown strands of hair on the back of Johnny's neck. Johnny held tightly onto Mark's waist, his fingers resting under cords of rope. 

"Come on," the dancer whispered as he gently pushed Johnny away. He grabbed the older man's hands and pulled him in the direction of his personal dressing room; it a perk of being the main dancer.

Once in the enclosed dressing room, the lights around the wall mirror bright white and blinding, Mark pushed the dj against the vanity. Johnny didn't complain about the sharp edge pressing into his ass, instead he pulled the dancer closer to him, feeling the contours of his body pressed against his own. 

The neon orange rope contrasted nicely against the dancer's pale skin, and Johnny couldn't help but stop and admire it. Mark felt the sweeping gaze traveling down his torso and straying to hover on his crotch; it set his veins aflame with need. He pushed forward, melting their skin together, their lips pressed together, tongues dancing. Johnny's hands held Mark's shoulder blades under the knots on his back, his fingers softly gliding against sweat-slickened skin.

Suddenly, Mark was lifted in the air and turned, his ass perched on his own vanity, makeup products being pushed loudly aside. Johnny continued to kiss Mark as though he was his only air supply; if they disconnected, he might just die. The dj's hands roamed further across the dancer's body, retracing the shape of the harness he tied earlier in the night. As his hands came into contact with the hem of Mark's shorts, he moved his mouth down the dancer's shoulder.

"Holy fuck," Mark moaned out as Johnny pressed his teeth gently into a pressure point beside a knot of rope. Johnny rubbed Mark's crotch slowly, not trying to rush it but really fervent in his assault. When Johnny detached his mouth from the dancer, his unoccupied hand gently pushed on Mark’s chest so the dancer would be leaning on his hands behind him. The look of pure appreciation and lust in Johnny's eyes went straight through Mark to his groin.

His fingers traced a path down Mark's sternum, plush lips following behind, his tongue dipping into the rivets of Mark's muscles. Soon, Johnny licked along the rope tied around Mark's core, his fingers massaging gently against Mark's dick as the dancer moaned his appreciation. Like before, Johnny's mouth was soon to follow, gently massaging the outline of the dick pressed tightly inside Mark’s spandex shorts.

"No," Mark moaned when Johnny pulled aside his shorts. The dj jerked away entirely from the dancer as though he was burned. "Let me," Mark clarified as he slid down from his perch. They were back in their original positions with Johnny's ass pressed into the edge of the vanity and Mark crouching down on his knees in front. His hands felt their way slowly down Johnny's chest. The dj chose to wear a plain black tank top paired with skin tight black jeans, all topped off with a black bandana tied around his bicep. The material of his shirt was so thin Mark was able to feel exactly where the dips in Johnny's slight abs were. The outfit was a perfect mix of dressed down with effort. Johnny really knew exactly how to accentuate his features, a learned trait from working so closely with performers so focused on appearance.

His fingers eventually found the zipper of the dj's jeans, skillfully pulling the metal down after undoing the button. Mark found his cock void of any other material within the jeans; of course he went commando in true Johnny fashion. The dancer gently coerced the erection out of its confines, taking a moment to relish the sight of _just_ how well endowed the dj really was.

Johnny's hands moved from their spot of gripping the edge of the counter, only to entwine them in the dancer's gelled hair. The gentle pull was all Mark needed to stick his tongue out to lick at the head of Johnny’s dick.

The dj moaned, almost out of habit, when Mark ran his tongue softly around the crown of the head. The dancer looked up from under his lashes, knees bent under him, hands holding onto Johnny’s thick thighs, and lips stretching to take as much of Johnny in as possible. He sunk down, his nose brushing the thick patch of hair in between the dj's legs. Sometimes his profession really paid off, especially when it came to his gag reflex being trained away.

Johnny tried to compose himself, one hand staying in Mark’s hair, while the other grounded himself against the vanity. He would be told when he was allowed to thrust, but now was not the time. Mark pulled off slowly with his tongue pressed into the underside of Johnny’s thick cock. After a few licks at the slit, the dancer fisted the base of the dj's dick, prepared to sink himself back down. He didn't get the chance to, however, before there was a knock at the door.

"Leon," Chris, Mr. X's personal assistant and sometimes MC, sounded clear through the door. "Mr. X said he wants you to head upstairs to the lounge. A client wants to meet you."

Mark groaned, pushing his face into Johnny's thigh as his hand lazily worked its way along the dj's dick. "Okay, I'll be up in just a moment."

"Don’t take too long," Chris said with a warning that both the dj and dancer knew didn't come from the man himself, but actually from their boss.

"You should go. We don't want Mr. X to get mad." Johnny nudged the dancer's shoulder gently, trying to get him to move back.

Mark, however, remained unmoved. "I’m not leaving you like this.” He punctuated with a sharp twist of his wrist at the head of Johnny's cock. "Besides, he probably just wants me to let the client fuck me for free to keep them coming back. I would rather let _you_ fuck me for free.”

Upon hearing his words, Johnny growled and grabbed Mark's chin between his thumb and forefinger. He smiled a wicked smile before pushing two fingers from his other hand into the dancer's mouth. "Open up, pretty boy. I want to fuck this pretty mouth of yours nice and hard. Is that okay?"

Mark closed his eyes and sucked on the fingers presented to him, moaning long and loud. He _wanted_ to be used; it was one of his favorite feelings. Was it an adaptation from his job or genuine? He would never know, but right then wasn’t the time to focus on it. He rearranged himself to be more comfortable and sat with his mouth wide open and eyes glazed over. Johnny's fingers still held his chin while his fingers suppressed Mark's tongue.

Johnny moved both of his hands to hold the back of Mark's head as he guided him towards his dick. Once his cock was entirely engulfed by Mark's mouth, Johnny began to shallowly thrust. He clearly felt the head of his dick hit the back of the dancer's throat. If it wasn't for his stamina, Johnny was sure he would have came right then and there just from that feeling alone. Mark swallowed around the dick in his mouth, breathing through his nose as Johnny continued to thrust into the tight, wet heat.

Suddenly, the dj picked up the pace as he thrusted into Mark's mouth. It felt like heaven; he wished he could claim a piece of that heaven for himself, but he knew it would never happen. Mark liked his job too much, not that Johnny minded, it was how they met after all. But the dancer had a policy strictly preventing dating within the dance community; it only ever caused trouble. Upset at never being able to compete with Mark's love for his job, Johnny took his sexual aggression out on Mark. He would never truly hurt the dancer, but he would fuck the dancer into the next life if it meant he could show Mark what he would be missing.

After just a few minutes longer, Johnny twisted his fingers harder in the strands of Mark's hair. He moaned out a warning of how close he was, letting his grip slack a bit and giving the dancer the opportunity to pull away. When Mark remained still with the dj's cock lodged down his throat, Johnny knew the underlying meaning. They had enough history to know each other’s mannerisms and what each meant. He quickened his pace again, chasing his release. After just a few more thrusts, Johnny groaned out his orgasm. The dancer swallowed most of the cum, collecting the rest on the front of his mouth. Still sitting on his bent knees, Mark looked up at Johnny through his sweaty bangs. He coyly opened his mouth to show the dj the remaining white, viscous liquid, before he swallowed the rest.

The tall dj let out another long groan before he yanked the dancer up by the front of his harness. He kissed Mark harshly, his tongue sweeping around the dancer's mouth, seeking the taste of himself. Johnny's hands traveled down to Mark's ass, holding each cheek in a hand entwined under the rope. Johnny pushed his thigh between the dancer's legs, grinding it against his semi-erection.

Just as Johnny began to move a hand to the front of Mark's shorts, another harsh knock on the door interrupted him.

"Leon, Mr. X is requesting your immediate attention. He says if you do not appear in the VIP Lounge in the next 3 minutes he will collect all of your tips for the next week." Chris was a nice guy, really he was. Maybe he was a bit energetic and out there sometimes, but he was generally a nice guy. No one was able to understand how he managed to become Mr. X's personal assistant. He had to have a lot of patience to put up with someone so notoriously impatient. Maybe it came from working ridiculously hard after immigrating from Australia, but that just led to questions of why settle for being an assistant.

"Okay, okay. I'm coming," Mark called out as he stepped away from the dj's arms.

"I'd hurry if I were you, you have two minutes left," Chris called through the door.

The dancer quickly straightened the knots of his rope harness and messed his hair up in a more deliberate than just-fucked fashion. With only a small smile and nod to Johnny, Mark left the dressing room quickly.

  
  


Mark was fairly accustomed to surprises, especially in his line of work. The amount of times he was told to meet with someone, only for them to be someone entirely different, easily outnumbered the times they were legitimate. Despite being used to surprises, Mark was never truly prepared for them. Especially when he was told by Mr. X his client _didn't_ want to fuck him. That was always a surprise, both a good and a bad one. Was he losing his touch? His appeal? That was no good...

"Any requests?" Mark asked, facing the client. The client, Mr. Z, was the only one in the room after Mr. X left. He sat in the armchair facing a small stage in the VIP lounge. It was designed specifically for solo dances.

Mr. Z smiled to himself before standing up and walking towards the sound system. He pressed a button and the room was suddenly full of a soft beat and a distorted voice.

_I need a Cha Cha beat boy_

Mark smirked to himself. These were his favorite types of dances: the freestyle to sensual songs. He knew this song well and was excited to dance. It had been a while since he could dance in a larger space than his cage. It had been even longer since he danced while turned on.

_So much bullshit I need to get away from_

Mark walked in circles in front of the now sitting client. He stopped with his back to him, hips popping on the snaps. He threw his hands above him, hips swaying side to side.

_Don't you go anywhere_

After turning to face this client, he circled his hips, going lower to the ground with each rotation. He touched the ground before thrusting once in the air and jumping back to full standing. The dancer walked closer to Mr. Z, smirk in place, as he popped his hips on every snap of the beat.

_I can't wait to go and fuck you right_

Mark grinded his hips in the air, inches out of reach of the client. He knew exactly how to play to a client's tastes; exactly how to tease them just enough. He knew this client liked it too, especially since his eyes were trained on the dancer's obviously erect crotch. Mark stepped away, still popping different joints on every snap. He turned his back to the client before bending at the waist to touch the ground. He had a nice ass, and he knew it.

_I don't disappoint_

Mark slid to the ground from his bent position, turning so he laid on his back, feet closest to the client. He thrusted his hips into the air in a wave motion, maintaining the sensuality of the song. The chorus repeated a few times, each time Mark moved his grinding closer to the client.

_I don't disappoint_

He was just about to stand up to grind on the client himself when the song ended. He wasn't used to dancing to shortened versions and was fully prepared to go on for another verse. Honestly, he was enjoying himself far more than he expected to. The client seemed to notice, judging from his pointed stares at Mark's now fully hard erection.

"You are truly a beautiful dancer, Leon," Mr. Z said, standing from his chair and offering a hand to the dancer.

Mark accepted the hand and pulled himself up with it. "Thank you," he said, face tinged red. He wasn't used to being called beautiful. Sexy? Yeah. Hot? Of course. Sex in heels? A time or two. Beautiful? Never.

"I would love to see you dance again. Once a week I would like to receive a private dance from you. I will pay you for your services, of course," Mr. Z said, a genuine smile in place of the creepy smile Mark was used to seeing from clients.

"Of course, Mr. Z. I'd love to dance for you."

"Where are my manners?" the client said before stretching his hand out again. "My name is Jung Jaehyun. Pleased to meet you, Leon."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songs used:  
> often - the weeknd  
> i don't dissapoint - jay park
> 
> | [twt](https://twitter.com/whinienini) |


End file.
